“Soon.” His voice dropped an octave as he stalked back to the bed. “Not yet.” He sat on the edge and reached out to trace a line of gold along her collarbone. “I’m not done with you.”
“What about Nessie’s cinnamon rolls?”
“They’ll keep.” His hand slid beneath the sheet, finding her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it pebbled beneath his touch. “This is more important.”
“Insatiable.” She laughed and swatted his hand away before scooting off the bed, dragging the sheet with her. “I want a shower to wash off this paint.”
“We could save water,” Anson suggested. “Shower together.”
“Very environmentally conscious of you.” She let the sheet fall away as she headed for the small bathroom and felt his gaze on her ass. She glanced over her shoulder. “Coming?”
“Not yet, but you will be again as soon as I get my hands on you again.” He was on his feet in an instant, following her like he was tethered to her by an invisible string. The bathroom was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, but they made it work, bodies pressed together under the spray. The water ran gold at first, the paint washing away in rivulets down their skin, swirling at their feet before disappearing down the drain.
Anson backed her against the cool tile, his hands sliding over her wet skin. “I’ll never get enough of touching you.”
“Good.” She reached for the soap, working it into a lather between her palms before spreading it across his chest. The scars felt different under the water—smoother in some places, more pronounced in others. She took her time, cleaning away the remnants of gold, revealing the man beneath. “Because I plan on being touched by you for a very long time.”
His eyes darkened as her soapy hands moved lower and wrapped around his length. “Magnolia...”
“Hmm?” She stroked him slowly, watching his face tighten with pleasure.
“I’m supposed to be making you come.”
“You will.” She sank to her knees, the shower spray hitting her back as she looked up at him through wet lashes. “Eventually.”
thirty-six
Later—much later—they finally got serious about washing off the paint. It was stubborn, clinging to the creases of their skin, to the lines of his scars. He scrubbed at his chest with a washcloth, frowning when it wouldn’t come completely clean.
“Where did you get the body paint?” he asked, inspecting the gold still embedded in the ridges of his palm.
“Johanna.”
He froze, and the look of sheer disgust that crossed his face had her bursting into laughter.
“It’s not funny, Magnolia. I shouldn’t have asked. Now I have an image of Walker and Jo…” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head hard as if trying to dislodge the thought.
She sucked in a breath and swallowed her giggles, wiping away a tear. “I bet they’re pretty kinky.”
“No. Jesus. Don’t put those pictures in my head.”
He looked so genuinely horrified, she decided to take pity on him.
“Okay, okay.” She stepped toward him and dragged her hands up over his chest. “I’ll stop teasing. Jo said the paint was left over from a fall festival where she did face painting to raise money for the local animal shelter.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I forgot she did that.”
“You should see your face right now.” She couldn’t help grinning at him. “All horrified at the thought of Walker and Johanna getting creative with body paint.”
“I work with them every day,” he grumbled, rinsing the last traces of gold from his arms. “See them at breakfast. Sit across from them at dinner. They’re like… my parents.”
“And now you’ll never look at them the same way again.” She reached around him to shut off the water, pressing her body against his back. “Especially when Johanna asks you to pass the honey.”
He groaned. “You’re evil.”
“You love it.” She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, watching as Anson stepped from the shower. Water ran in rivulets down his chest, following the paths of his scars like rivers cutting through a landscape.
“I do love it,” he admitted, reaching for his own towel. “I love everything about you.”
